Nests and Eggs of Birds of the United States / Illustrated

by Thomas G. Gentry

A sudden, circular plunge, accompanied by a dull, heavy splash, and the frightened, squirming fish is wrested from its native element, and swallowed in an instant. In less time than it takes to chronicle the brief event, the daring, cruel deed is accomplished, and the perpetrator thereof has regained his post, and stands ready for similar adventures. Such is the greedy and unsatisfying character of his nature that, where undisturbed, he has been known to watch for hours at a time without changing his point of lookout. It must not be supposed, however, that the quantity of food which he devours is in proportion to the time spent in its procurement. This is not the case. Due allowance must be made for disappointments and reverses, as well as for the failure of the finny tribes to manifest themselves. Tired of watching, he often varies his occupation by coursing along the stream at a small height above its surface, and stopping anon, suspended after the fashion of Hawks, to gaze into the depths below.

Nothing can be more interesting than the behavior of an individual who has miscalculated his chances, and fallen wide of his mark when plunging for prey. The very impersonation of disappointment, he retires to his post, sullen and dejected. His very attitude and looks attest the war of feelings waging within his bosom. But this is of short continuance. The thoughts of past experiences come to his rescue, and he is himself again. With the successful fellow the condition is different. Joy and happiness are depicted where, before, we saw but misery and sadness.

However intently these birds may seem to be occupied with the business before them, they are not so completely absorbed therein as to be utterly oblivious to their surroundings. Blessed with sharp vision, they are as equally favored in the direction of hearing. When the eye is engaged, like a faithful sentinel on duty the ear, whose function it is to receive and communicate vibrations of air to the brain where they are interpreted, is always on the alert, ready to warn its companion of danger.

From what has been written, it is evident that the desire for food seems uppermost in the thoughts of these birds from their first arrival—usually in March or April—until pairing commences. In its gratification, the female is the equal of her lord. Such being the case, it is unreasonable to expect any great degree, of familiarity and friendship to exist between the sexes. They, therefore, dwell apart. Accident sometimes brings them together, but beyond a silent recognition, they evince no greater regard. Thus affairs continue for a month, and even for a longer period of time, when they suddenly come to a most glorious end by the assumption of connubial relations. Nothing remarkable or impressive indicates the coming of this event. The male seems to meet his partner unawares, makes overtures of love in his own strange fashion, and becomes at once her uninfluenced choice. And thus the story is ended.

Without further ado, the wedded couple prepare for the duties of house-keeping. Usually they are spared the trouble of searching for a home. Especially is this the case with old birds, who have only to visit the scenes of other years to find a domicile awaiting occupancy. A little repairing of the galleries leading thereto, as well as the cosy, interior chamber, and the place soon wears an aspect of cheerfulness and comfort. But where these structures do not exist, they are excavated at great pains in the sides of ponds, streams, or cliffs contiguous to water. A very common place, in the latitude of Philadelphia, is in sandy, railroad cuttings. Dry, elevated grounds, beyond the reach of inundations, are ordinarily chosen, although there may be exceptions to the rule.

These burrows are the results of the alternate labors of the sexes, who work with diligence and rapidity until the task is accomplished, often making a deep excavation in a single night, when the bank is soft and sandy. The directions and depths of these holes vary: some being less than four feet, while others are more than fifteen feet deep; some being straight, and others turning either to the right or to the left before terminating in the enlarged chamber which is constructed as a place of deposit for the eggs. The time spent in the formation of a burrow depends upon the nature of the soil and the length of the shaft. Ordinarily two days are required for its completion, although instances are recalled where three, and even four days, have been occupied with the tunneling.

With the successful accomplishment of this task, nothing further remains to be done but to deposit the eggs upon the bare sand. Some birds do not deem their labor finished until they have given their home a warm lining of dried grasses and feathers. Such cases are exceptional, and dependent upon the humidity of the ground.

In 1855, Dr. Brewer discovered a nest of this species on Mt. Washington, alongside of a carriage-drive, and at a distance of a mile from any water-shallows. Another was found in a sand-bank in the village of Hingham, in close proximity to a dwelling, and quite remote from stream or pond. The authors of the latter nest were very cautious and retiring, seldom venturing out during the day, but were continually moving backward and forward at night, as evidenced by their loud, rattling cries. When with young these nocturnal excursions are not infrequent.

Speaking of the building habits of these birds, reminds us of a curious fact which occurred in the history of a male-bird, of which Mr. Dali, of Washington, was an eye-witness. On a certain occasion his attention was attracted to his lordship engaged in digging holes by the side of his nest, which were two feet in depth and eight inches in diameter, apparently for no other purpose than that of pleasure or occupation. They were invariably abandoned as soon as constructed. Once, he entered one of these burrows to eat a fish which he had captured.

Many fabulous stories have been told in ages that are past of the nest and manner of hatching of the Kingfishers, but they are too absurd and trifling to deserve more than a passing notice. The birds of our day neither construct their nests of glue or fishbones, nor commit them to the mercy of the waters to float about at random with their proprietors, but place them deep down in the earth, where they are secure from wind and rain, and the thousand perils which threaten the homes of their less sagacious neighbors. Into these secret recesses the females place their pure white, nearly spherical treasures, to the number of six, on as many consecutive clays. These beautiful solids exhibit not more than ordinary variation in size, and rarely exceed 1.31 of an inch in length, and 1.06 in breadth from the most diverse localities.